Help
by Truth-Unspoken
Summary: "'Cannot' becomes one of the main words people use around you. You cannot move your legs. You cannot move your arms. You cannot feed yourself or go to the bathroom alone. You cannot speak. You are trapped inside your mind."- Drabble-ish. Dark.


**Yeah, crappy title, whatever.**

**So, this is supposed to be a prompt that I used on LiveJournal, but my friend made me post it on here, too. It's full of dark angst and stuff, so I wouldn't read if you don't like that stuff. And, I know the POV is weird, but bear with me. It wouldn't sound right any other way.**

**Thank you OCValkyrie for editing! And catching my stupid mistakes like always.**

**Disclaimer: I will never own FFVII.**

**Help**

Do you know what it's like to always need help, no matter what you are doing?

Of course you don't. No one does.

And even the people I meet that are like me do not understand.

Because even though we have the same diagnosis on paper, we are so very different in context.

The disease does not have a name. Evidently, the scientists were afraid of naming it, because if they gave it a name then _it_ would be there and _it_ would be real and then citizens would finally have something to be terrified of.

It is known as simply _it. _They had to give it a title, and there it was. Vague and unimpressive.

But, when you were kissed on the lips with _it_, then it left a _huge _impression.

First you lose the use of your feet. No biggie, right? Use a wheelchair. So, that works until your arms do nothing more than flap around uselessly. So, you end up sitting around, in idle chat with loved ones, thinking of holidays spent running and tackling and hugging and you become slightly nostalgic for those simple feelings again. But, the feeling disappears away and a firm smile plants itself on your face as you believe you will do all those things again.

And this is where the believing comes to a screeching halt.

Because suddenly your voice starts to fade and then one day you open your mouth and no sound comes out and you start to freak out because what is wrong with your voice, why is it not working, and you start to scream and kick but you're not really screaming or kicking? Because you do not have legs that move or a voice that works.

And so you silently retreat in yourself before reality becomes too much to bear and your bones crush under all the weight that you can no longer truly feel in yourself but only in your mind.

'Cannot' becomes one of the main words people use around you. You cannot move your legs. You cannot move your arms. You cannot feed yourself or go to the bathroom alone. You cannot are trapped inside your mind. All of these 'cannots' drive you practically insane. The only thing keeping you a little bit sane is the people.

Family members and close friends come and go during the day, but there is always one constant; Cloud.

Your husband always comes and tells you it's alright, that it will always be alright, and that he loves you more than anything in the world. And you try to tell him that he should not be there, that he should be outside the stupid white-washed walls, where life and energy is taking place. But he refuses and stays by your side until a nurse comes in and states that vising hours are over, but even then he stays longer until the nurse has to threaten him until he finally lets go with the parting words of, "See ya soon, Teefie." And you melt so suddenly you almost fall out of the straight-back chair you've been sitting in all day because you want nothing more than to run off with him into the sunset, no matter how cliché it sounds. Because you've dedicated your heart and soul into having a relationship with him, but how are you supposed to keep one up if you cannot move or talk and express anything?

You learn a way. Your way of communicating without words or noise is a simple answer; eyes. Your eyes speak everything you wish you could say.

You can say simple things like _please _and _thank you _and _you're welcome. _But you can also say complicated things like _I love you and I miss you and I want nothing more than to be with you._

So you have entire conversations where no words are spoken on either of your parts and it makes you feel slightly better. Because, there is an end, right?

And then the day comes when your doctor comes in and tells your husband that within the next few days your brain will basically become mush and you will be capable of no thought process whatsoever. You feel shocked and completely appalled that you burst into tears because you can no longer scream and rave and punch something because nothing works anymore. And then your husband is yelling at the doctor, can't he do anything, there has to be a cure! But the doctor is insisting that nothing can be done, and that it is best for Cloud to leave before he sees anything he wish he didn't see.

For a second you truly are petrified that he will leave you without a glance back without a worry about what will happen to you but then Cloud punches the doctor and starts screaming profanities and you are so overcome by joy that you watch in amusement while the doctor is cowering under your husband's powerful glare. You think everything will be fine with him there.

Of course you're wrong. Nothing can overpower _it._

You wait impatiently for days and nothing happens. The days become weeks and still nothing happens. Cloud is with you every day and stays by your side. The doctor insists that you can no longer understand that Cloud is there, but you do! You want to tell that stupid doctor off, but you can't. So horror sets in. Because what if no one knows you can still think and you can hear and you're still _you?_

Cloud, ever so slowly, begins to believe the doctor, and he starts visiting you less and less, because all you can do is stare at the window and wish desperately for him to see the light in your eyes, the silent _I love you! Please, don't leave me!_

But no one hears you because no one can stand to look you in the eyes. Because they think all they are going to see is blankness; zero population.

You figure out in your head that something happened; _it _didn't do its job correctly, or maybe something happened so that _it _stopped spreading through your immune system. You don't know. All you know is that your brain isn't fried, but people are acting like it.

And it drives you wild because you can do nothing, and all you want to do is just scream, "Help! I'm right here, damnit! _Help me!"_

But no one hears you.

So you sit alone day after day, staring out that damn window into that damn parking lot, watching cars go by on their own free will, and something eats you inside. Not _it, _not pain or hurt, but pure, white-hot _anger. _You're angry with your body because it failed you when you needed it the most. Memories eat at you, too, taunting you with running feet and happy laughs and words spoken and stolen kisses.

And you never get to feel any of those again.

Only one word echoes and resounds in your supposedly empty mind.

Help.

**So, there you go. Awful? Good-ish? Press the magical non-green (Thank you kerapal bubbles!) button at the bottom and tell me!**

**~Truth**


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